New Adaptions
by scribbler619
Summary: Only just after becoming adapted to their home on Earth, the Autobots in their own, new, safe location from their enemies the Decepticons, a new threat to human safety seems to arise. Accompanied with his geographically closest Autobots, Optimus Prime goes to investigate . . . when everything goes terribly wrong. (Don't judge. Just read.)
1. Chapter 1

New Adaptions

Trouble, Right from the Start

Silence. For once, it was quiet, allowing even the most troubled mind time to think. Usually, there would be a lot of noise, but this was not true today. Today, a feeling of calm ran over me, the pleasure of getting a few free moments in the day washing over me, putting my mind in a serene state as I reveled all of the things that had happened over the past few years. Decepticon activity had become low, it seemed as though there was little left fighting for, even though Megatron still stood on his own two feet, along with a number of his Decepticon ranks. Now our battles seemed like nothing more than squabbles, simple skirmishes over energon supplies, all of which were easily attained and were too frequently won and lost to say who was doing better. As for the Autobots, we were faring just as well as our enemies.

Our location had been moved, now we were located somewhere in the middle of Death Valley, Nevada, hidden away in a cleverly made base, stationed completely underground and hidden, out of both Decepticon and human view. The only ones that knew of our existence now was the very few number of informed American government officials, and of course the small strike team N.E.S.T. As for the Autobots themselves, our number had changed since our last true fight against our enemies, reduced, and then added to. All that was left of our original team that arrived on Earth was Ratchet, my chief medical officer, Iron Hide, my weapons specialist, Bumblebee, a scout that had proven his worth time and time again, and myself. With us stood Wheeljack, a specialist in technology. So far, he had been able to fix anything that we found broken, from Cybertronian technology to even human technology. And then there was Prowl, a veteran from the War that had decided to join in an attempt to find peace. With him came Jazz, who immediately took a liking to human music and slang, and used it often, and fought just as well as any soldier I have met. We found Drift, a former Decepticon turned Autobot traveling with a younger recruit, Smokescreen, and they, too, joined our ranks. Nine of us, in all.

Here, we stayed, lying in wait for when the humans needed our aid, waiting to fight the Decepticons to the best of our abilities.

I was sitting in alt mode, doing my best to take advantage of the silence of the day. I could hear the Autobots in another part of the room, in a different quarters. I was thinking about joining them to see what the commotion was about, though at the same time, felt opposed entirely to the whole idea. I had a lot more things to plan for, things I would have later relayed to them, had my mind not have been drawn elsewhere.

"Optimus."

The single summons was from one the new heads of the human N.E.S.T. team. There were three of them, not including a young male who hung around them yet was not one of them. Captain Moses Ramsey, Captain Emmett Curdey, and Sargent Harold Baker. Sargent Baker was the one that called my name, and he waited at the edge of the room. I climbed to my feet, transforming as I stood, changing from alt mode to bot mode within seconds. "Is there something you need, Sargent Baker?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Something's come up. We think it might be major Decepticon activity." Captain Ramsey and Captain Curdey nodded, as if to confirm this new piece of information, and I nodded once as well, moving forward as they moved into a part of the base that was made especially for conferences like the one that was about to occur. Before long, I was looking at them at optic-level, folding my hands behind my back as I waited for one of them to continue. There was a small remote in Sargent Baker's hand, and he clicked a single button, making an image appear on a screen that was behind him. I leaned forward a bit, focusing my optics on it in an attempt to get a better view.

"There was an attack on a small township about 70 klicks from here. We're not sure what it was, but by reports, there was damage that was in no way achievable by a human. Some photos were attained; we believe the attacker was Cybertronian." The screen changed behind him as he spoke, going from an infrared image of the town in question to images of a form out of focus, a blur that made it hard to see just what the photograph had snapped a picture of, yet the shape was familiar enough for me to recognize it.

"Decepticons?" I asked, and Captain Ramsey shrugged. "We aren't sure, but we're putting our money on a 'yes'."

"We will leave immediately." I said, turning and walking toward the main chambers of the base, where the rest of the Autobots were. Drift and Iron Hide seemed to be sparring, they exchanged blows, yet it seemed neither of them were gaining the upper hand. Wheeljack and Ratchet seemed to be arguing over something Wheeljack was working on, yet this was normal, as well. Bumblebee, Prowl, Jazz, and Smokescreen seemed to be discussing something else entirely. Yet, when I walked into the room, all debate stopped, and I was met with a line of greetings.

"Autobots . . . roll out!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Unseen Trap

I used the rearview mirror to look behind me for a moment, watching the clouds of dust that were stirred up as we raced across the desert. Billows of sand were placed behind us as we moved; a line was spread out behind me. Prowl and Jazz moved as one, and together behind them were Drift and Iron Hide, behind them traveled Bumblebee, Wheeljack, and Smokescreen made a triangular formation, making up the behind. The GPS led us to the location of the town, coordinates relayed to us by Baker and his men. There were a number of things that could happen upon coming to this township, but none of us could have known what we were really in for. We had a com link, and already the Autobots were using it, debating as to what could be ahead.

"At last! Something _I _can attribute to!" Smokescreen's excited voice rung over the com, and immediately he was met with a short laugh, from a number of different Autobots.

"Don't leak oil, Smokescreen. We might not even find anything at all. For all we know, he could be gone by now. Besides, you so sure you could handle it, _rookie_?" Wheeljack's voice teased.

"And the hazing begins." Smokescreen sighed.

"We all went through it, no hard feelings, kid." Prowl said.

"We gotta stick together!" _Pssh._ "Yeah, man, and dey just got done with me." A radio signified Bumblebee speaking his own mind, and a collaboration of agreement followed. I decided not to interject anything, yet instead let them speak, paying more attention to looking on the horizon for the township that Baker and his team had described. They had said that the buildings were destroyed, that none of them were spared. Whoever this had been had cost them a lot of damage, and there were a number of expenses that were now being depleted in order to hold back investigations, from police forces and human news vans alike. The conversation continued until the township came in view, where at the same time all of us seemed to spy it over the flat ground. I sped up, and following my lead so did the rest of the Autobot team, moving above a normal vehicle's attainable speed. We didn't stop until we went inside the perimeter of the beaten buildings. Here, I transformed without slowing down, the moment I had my legs and shoulders again rolling and going onto my feet, changing my hands into canons as to be ready for any attack. Behind me, my audits told me that the others were transforming too, following my lead.

Yet, no attack came. Instead, we were met with nothing but the wind howling, echoes bouncing off of the buildings. I lowered my weapons and looked to the crumbling structures, everything looked unstable. Not a single building was spared. I remembered the infrared image, recalling that the township was in a circular space, with a single epicenter of where they believed the destruction had begun, and that was in the middle of the town itself. I looked to the Autobots, who were now standing in a line, waiting for orders.

"We will split up, in teams of two. Prowl, Jazz, you'll go down one pathway. Drift, Iron Hide, you go another. Wheeljack, Smokescreen, you take another route. Bumblebee and I will go down this road. Keep an eye out for any danger. Recon only. If you should encounter a Decepticon, contact us over the com link, and we will come to your aid."

The Autobots signaled they understood, all in their own way, and then we split up. I let Bumblebee go ahead, while I took the rear, and we started down the street while we studied the buildings. I watched for movement, any sign that there was something hiding, waiting for us to arrive. Yet everything was dead, or burnt, or broken. What I found strange, was that there were no vehicles, or human casualties. Surely, Baker and his men could not have come and collected them all, and I doubted Megatron would have any want of human remains. I thought over motives in my head as I looked, rotating my head, my optics looking from one side to the other as we moved closer to the middle of town.

"Sarge."

Bumblebee caught my attention, and he transformed his cannon into a hand again, and pointed, gesturing to the tops of the buildings. "I believe you are right, Bumblebee," he said, my eyes following his finger as he pointed out the next oddity. The buildings seemed skewed, the tops shaved off at a downward angle, each top going down at the same time, yet still we moved, watching as the buildings got smaller and smaller, until I could see the other Autobots moving toward the middle as well.

"You guys see it too, then?" Wheeljack asked over the com link, and a number of replies answered.

"Yeah."

"Yup."

"Slanted buildings."

"What does it mean? Have Decepticons done this before?"

"Decepticons don't care about what they trash, Smokescreen. And they're certainly not artsy."

"So, what do we do about it?"

"Whoa. Look at that."

Together, we all looked at the middle, staring at the same object, all at the same time. A single fountain stood at attention. It was spurting its water, droplets catching the sun and making a spray of colors as it splashed. It wasn't damaged, yet seemed completely untouched, left to stand freely alone. Confusion rippled throughout the team, and we looked at one another questioningly.

"Why would they destroy everything else, yet leave this alone?" Jazz asked.

"That is a mystery . . .something we'd have to-"

As I began to speak, Smokescreen stepped forward, as if he was going to touch the fountain. As his metallic fingers touched the spray, the fountain stopped, the water suddenly going still, and as the Autobots turned to him in surprise.

"I . . . I didn't mean to _kill_ it . . ." Smokescreen said quickly, raising his hands defensively and stepping back again.

"Don't-" I began to speak yet again, but suddenly the ground groaned, and shook, throwing us all to the ground. A large _SHOOM_ echoed in my audits, and I placed my hands to the sides of my head, trying to block the sound, cut off the pain it caused.

"The fountain!"

"What's going on?"

"That's _not_ a fountain!"

I looked up, squinting as the fountain released a beam of light, sending a wave at us that caused an electrical pulse that seemed to sweep over us all. A shock went over my body, and a cry of pain waved through the rest of the Autobots at the same time I felt the sudden sensation fly through my limbs. "_Autobots_!" I shouted, and tried to stand, yet found I couldn't move.

"I can't move!"

_"Optimus!_"

"What do we _do_?"

"Help!"

As I struggled to move, a feeling in the back of my head made itself known, and suddenly everything was spinning. A heavy feeling came over my body, my limbs, and suddenly I was pressed further onto the ground. I closed my eyes to try and remedy the spinning, yet I could still feel it, a dizzying sensation falling over my head as the feeling that had begun, the knot in the back of my head growing larger.

"Autobots!" I called again, yet I heard no reply. There was nothing to hear but the large _SHOOM_ that overpowered everything else, and suddenly I realized that we had been caught in a trap that we never before could have seen coming. A trap that I _should_ have seen coming. With this thought, I opened my eyes, surprise hitting me as though someone had punched me. There was a bright light that shined in my optics, making me squint, and then darkness overcame me, and consciousness was lost.

I was thrown into a swirling darkness, stuck in that same state of shock, as I knew suddenly . . . nothing would be the same again.


	3. Chapter 3

All New Look

For a second, I didn't want to open my optics. I felt as though doing so would only increase the pain I felt in my head, and somewhere I thought I could hear Ratchet's voice, which made me feel as though, that perhaps, we were fine. But as my mind got more and more into focus, as I gained more and more consciousness, I realized that Ratchet was not there . . . that there was no voice at all. Instead, there was a silence again, and despite my previous desire to keep my optics closed, I felt the rising need to open them, until at last, I did.

Immediately, I knew something was wrong. I was lying down, on something soft, and as I moved my arms, I realized that whatever I was lying on was covering me, also, the lower half of my body covered in the same soft material. Over me, though my sight was blurred by a pounding in the back of my skull, there was a ceiling, and there were red walls surrounding me. Decorations, ornaments covered them, a gold vine-like pattern running up them. There was a stand that held nothing but a lamp by what I was laying on, yet it was far too large, not as small as it should have been. I slowly moved my head, turning it away from where it had been positioned before, to look on the other side.

A noise caught my attention, it sounded like water, and then I felt cold, being pressed against my brow. The unfamiliar sensation made my head turn back to where it had been facing before. My optics focused, and then widened at such a sight, as I looked upon a young human female. Her skin was dark, and like the lamp, she was far too large, not as small as she should have been. She was pressing something against my brow, some sort of cloth that was the source of the cold. When she saw that I was looking at her, her brown eyes became alight with an elation that confused me. "Good, you're awake at last . . ." Was she not caught unawares by my strange appearance? Was she not afraid, or at least surprised? Surely, my appearance was something she wasn't used to. She seemed like she was going to say something else, yet was interrupted.

"Hannah! Get away from that room!" A voice suddenly called, and my optics flickered to an open door from where the voice had first come from, confusion twisting my features even further. The door was one that would be used inside the house of a human home, something that not even one of my hands should have been able to fit through. And yet, it seemed large enough to allow me to walk through. I blinked as the female made a noise I'd learned was caused by annoyance. She put down the cloth, removing it from my forehead, and stood back a few paces. She looked at me once, then turned and disappeared through the door, closing it behind her, and yelling as she went. "Geez, Bill, you treat me like I'm four or something. You jealous, just 'cause he's gorgeous?" Yet, my optics didn't follow her. Instead, they focused on what had been hidden behind her form, something I never would have seen had she never moved.

Glass, a reflective mirror hung on the red and gold wall, yet what looked back at me was not what it should have been.

A human male stared at the glass. He had cream colored skin that was smooth and flawless, yet he was dirty, smudges of dirt and grime covered his body, which happened to be naked. His body was defined by muscle, strong, and as I leaned up to get a better look at him, so did he. His face was long, with a squared chin and defined jaw and a long nose. Bright blue eyes that held their own form of experience and knowledge were set under deep, blue brows. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his handsome features twisted with surprise, confusion, and growing anguish. He had blue hair, which was styled to part at the right side, and it fell over the top of his head. It, too, like his body and face, was dirty. Slowly, as I swept my legs to the side, he did, too, and as we both stood up, realization flooded over my face.

This _human_ was _me._

I watched my mouth drop open, and I leaned closer, raising a cream-colored arm . . . _my_ cream-colored arm . . . to touch the cold glass, as if just to be sure that it was a mirror, and I was not being tricked by some form of never beheld mischief. Yet, to my dismay and torment, this was no trick. A pulse, a repeating thudding in my chest where my spark should have been thudded, and I placed a hand to _my_ chest to feel it. Not only did this thud stay there, but it was in my throat, my ears, and suddenly the pain in my head made itself known again, and I faltered. One of my hands shot out to catch myself on another empty stand, and I leaned heavily on it as another hand slowly reached up for the side of my head.

How could this have happened? Was it even possible? Had a nightmare come alive, and I was only enduring it because I could not wake up? And what had become of the other Autobots? If this was real, not a fantasy, as I began to hope that it was, did they, too, suffer the same fate as me? And where were they? Lost, as well? And what were they seeing, looking at themselves?

In all my worry, I didn't hear the door open and close yet again behind me, and the sudden beckoning made me stiffen, and I slowly turned around to look at a dark-skinned human male as he spoke. "Oh. My, erm . . . I see that you're up."

"Yes . . . I suppose I am." I said, relieved to find that my voice had not changed. Yet it didn't improve my worried mood. The man's face confused me; his optics were placed on another part of the room instead of where I was standing. There was a slight discoloring of his cheeks, I could see the dark skin taking on a light pink color the longer he stood by the door, and the longer he stood with that awkward posture. I was too distraught to really question it, and I started to turn back toward the mirror in dismay when he spoke again.

"It can't be comfortable, standing there . . . in that . . ._ fashion_ . . . _ahem._ Please, would you . . . come this way? We have a nice bath prepared for you, with hot water." He gestured, as if he wanted me to move, and I took a step forward, leaning off of the stand, again. I managed to be able to take a few steps on my own, before once again, the pain in my head grew, and I began to fall yet again. Suddenly, the dark-skinned male reached out, grabbing ahold of my arm, and steadying me. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure how you would react to the concussion, it seems you're a lot worse off than I expected."

"Concussion?" I echoed his tones. This word was new to me, and I didn't know what he meant. The man nodded. "Yes. You're suffering from a concussion. Does this mean . . . you don't remember anything?"

"Remember . . . ?"

Yes. I remembered. I remembered the town, and the buildings, the fountains, and being helpless to help my Autobots who had quickly become far out of my reach. They were in danger, and I knew that I, too, was in danger as well. We all were. While I was trapped in this form, while the Autobots were like this, how would we protect the humans from the Decepticons? How were we to fight them, if we all were like this? My worries only grew as the man helped steady me again. "Would you like me to help you?"

"I . . . I believe help would be nice." I said at last, my voice remaining steady despite on how unsteady I felt deep down. He put my arm closest to him over his shoulders, and then grabbed hold of my waist, helping me steady further, and then we moved together.

"I should have taken you to a hospital, yet since I am a doctor myself, I didn't think it would be necessary, yet I'm seeing that . . . perhaps . . ."

"I . . . I am fine, just . . ."

There were many things that I wanted to say, to try to explain, yet I knew how foolish that would be. For a moment, I was silent, trying to find the right words, and he waited patiently, which I appreciated, glad that I was being shown hospitality that I most likely did not deserve. At last, I thought of something to complete my broken thought as it had been before, and I slowly said, "I am just not . . . _myself_."

"Don't you worry; you'll be yourself again in a little while. It's only a minor concussion, and I think you'll feel a lot better after getting a nice, warm bath. And then we have a nice, large closet open to your disposal. I don't think you'll be presentable for dinner if you're naked, and it's all I can do to thank you for what you've done for this neighborhood."

"For what I have done?" I repeated his words again, and felt the pain grow. Now I winced, unable to hold it back, my features easily exposing the pain that waved through my entire mind, it felt like my circuits were being hit, over and over, and the ache only increased with every second it lasted. My free hand reached up and I placed it on the side of my head where the pain began, and pulled the hand back in surprise, to slowly return my elongated digits, and gingerly fingered the sore bump that was hidden by my hair.

"Ahh, then you don't remember. You saved a little girl's life yesterday. She was playing in our yard, and suddenly their ball rolled out into the street. When she went to retrieve it, a car came around the corner. It would have hit her if not for you. You pushed her out of the way. However . . . you were kinda clipped by their mirror." He paused for a moment to open the door to a second room. This room had a number of utensils and appliances that I'd never seen before were set about it. He pointed them out for me, and said them by name.

"Here's the sink, and the tub's over there. You know, while I'm at it, I think I'll just help you get clean . . . don't want you to lose consciousness and end up _drowning_ . . ."

I felt a new sensation almost immediately. The sides of my face immediately felt warm, and the heat seemed to flow from my cheeks to my ears, and as I looked off to the side, he seemed to notice. "Don't be embarrassed . . . I'm not trying to embarrass you, anyway."

After that, he helped me into the tub, and much to my displeasure, he also helped me get clean. Once all of the grime and dirt was washed away, he helped me out of the hot water, letting it somehow exit the 'tub' as he handed me a cloth that was almost as tall as my human form, and using this, he helped me get dry. My face and audits burned the entire experience, and I saw that his color was there, too, every time he looked at me. When that was finished, I was sure I would be able to stand on my own, and gently pushed him away, taking a moment to try and stand on my own.

When I found that I was stable, I had him lead me to the next thing he was sure he needed me to do. I found that I was now required to wear clothing, and he had me choose whatever I found pleasing, though I wasn't sure what looked best at first. He said I would be most comfortable in "jeans", and handed me a rough material that was obviously meant to cover my lower body. I put them on, and was relieved when I put them on right the first time, and his blush disappeared once I had them on, and he looked at me more often. I assumed that my nakedness was what had caused him to be so distant, yet after it was remedied the moment I put on the jeans. I then picked out a piece of clothing that he referred to as a t-shirt reflexively. When I slipped that on, I found it tight, yet he said that was how it was designed. I nodded once, and chose a jacket that reminded me a lot of how I had looked in my Autobot mode. It had the same red color, and the flame design emblazoned on the sleeves and on the back. The last few things he had me put on was a pair of soft material that went over my feet, that I learned were called socks, and over those went shoes made from a durable leather.

"There, I think that's about right now." The man said, taking a step back as I walked back out into the other room, standing and staring at myself in the reflective glass. There were a lot of things running through my mind, but none of them were happy. I was distraught, and despite wanting to feel like I had something else to look forward to, that there was still hope, I couldn't see anything that would give me a reason to feel sanguine. The man walked up behind me, his paces careful, seeming to pick up on my obvious downcast mood. "We . . . Hannah'll have supper ready by now. Why don't we go downstairs? You've got to be hungry."

I didn't know what hunger felt like. To be famished was something I had never before had to worry about, but I assumed that if I didn't take precautions, and do what this body needed me to, I might not be able to find the rest of the Autobots. And, from what I was quickly learning, this concussion was not one to press. Therefore, as the man began to walk toward the door, I followed, as carefully as I could, watching my step as the pain resided to no more than a dull throb. I knew it would most likely come back at the worst time, yet I pushed that from my thoughts.

Through the door of the room that I had awakened in was a hallway. This room was at the end of it, and it seemed to stretch across the length of the entire building, and there were rooms on either side, each leading to their own chamber. In the middle of the hallway, there was a staircase that the man beckoned for me to follow him down. I placed a cream-colored hand on the banister, stopping for a second to look at it in dismay yet again. And then I continued, watching how I stepped down the stairs, the disorientation I felt as I moved making it more difficult than it should have been. The man looked behind his shoulder every once and a while, his brow furrowed with concern. I would give him a look that implied that I was fine, though it was nowhere near a smile. I was not happy. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, the female that had pressed the cold cloth to my forehead walked by, balancing a dish that looked full of some form of food on her hip.

"Hey! Don't you clean up nice! Come on, I've almost got the table set."

"Hannah. Leave him alone." The man said, his tones low, full of warning.

"What?" the woman rolled her optics before continuing on through an arch-like passage to another room. There was a small table, seated for three, with a variety of food set out. The dish that the female had been carrying was placed in the middle, it must have been the main course, and there were smaller dishes that held different forms of food. The man pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit, as the woman sat in the one directly across from it while he took the other seat. I slowly and carefully sat down, clenching my jaw as the pain spiked for a moment, only to subside when I stopped moving.

"You'll have to excuse my sister. She's D – E – S – P – E – R – A – T -"

"_Shawn_!" the woman interjected.

"Just serve the food, okay?"

"Whatever."

As the woman moved, the man turned to me. "Are you feeling alright? I have some pain killers, maybe that'll help?"

"No, I . . . do not know if that would be necessary."

"You don't have to be tough like that. That's what _I'm_ here for, after all . . ."

The woman set a plate of food in front of me, with a square of the larger orange and red dish on one side. A glob of white substance sat off to the right of that, a wet, yellow liquid running down its sides, and there were green cylinders on another side of that, and then a funny-shaped, almost mushroom-like yellow beyond that. I wasn't sure how they found that at all appetizing. Yet, the man smiled widely, and rubbed his hands together with an almost nervous laugh directed at me. "Lasagna. Yum."

" . . . Yum." I mimicked, though I didn't at all sound convincing.

"Are . . . you going to introduce us, or are we just going to be weird for however long he's here?" the woman asked, elbowing the man in the side.

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I'm Dr. Shawn Callaway, and this is my sister, Hannah. And you are . . . ?"

"My name is Optimus Prime." I said, slowly picking up a pronged utensil at the same time that Shawn did, following his movements to the best of my ability. No matter how strange all of the things on the plate looked, I knew that I needed to consume it.

"Optimus? Huh. Haven't heard that name before. Pretty cool." Dr. Shawn Callaway remarked.

I brought up the pronged utensil to my mouth, pausing for a moment and pursing my lips as I looked at it, studying the bit of the white glob that I had scooped up. I didn't know if my face was giving it away, but Dr. Shawn Callaway and his sister Hannah watched me for a moment, as if my hesitation was giving away my distaste. I put the glob in my mouth and chewed, imitating similar movements made by the both of them. Thankfully, whatever the food was, it didn't taste as terrible as it looked.

We just sat and ate for a while, there wasn't much conversation to be said, it seemed. I carefully cleared the plate, finding despite their strange appearances, they weren't all that terrible. It reminded me that appearances weren't what I should judge. As Hannah cleared the plates, Dr. Shawn Callaway looked at me for a moment, and then said, "I have something in the garage. A truck, that the police think is yours. It was in the direction you came from, and nobody else has claimed it. Would . . . you want to look at it? If it's not yours, then I can turn it in and get it to who it really belongs to."

"I suppose that's logical." I answered, and Hannah and Dr. Shawn Callaway paused, looking at me curiously for a moment, before the man stood up and brushed himself off. "Okay. Follow me."

I followed him through the house, taking note of where certain things were, and following him through to a larger room. It had a large door that opened upward, like a bunker, and it led straight to outside. I took it as that was the garage. Inside, there was a truck, and when I saw it, I stopped short, and stared.

"I mean, it's a pretty rad ride. I'd hate it if I owned it and lost it." Dr. Shawn Callaway remarked.

It was indeed my truck. It was the same model, and had the same design. I recognized a few "scars" it had gotten from scuffles over the years of it being my alt mode, and for a long while I stood there, before slowly walking forward. Slowly, a shaky hand stretched out, before the elongated fingers came to rest on the side of the door, and I looked down, my face becoming dark. While I was glad that I had not lost my alt mode, I was not glad to see it at the same time. Because, its existence somehow proved to me, that this was _real. _"Yes." I said at last. "This is mine."

` "Awesome. I'll uh . . . let you two get reacquainted then." With that, Dr. Shawn Callaway left the garage, and I was alone. For a moment, I stared at nothing, standing still, my mind filled with dark, sad thoughts. And then I was reminded of something truly important that resided inside my truck. I reached up and as quickly as my body and my injured mind would allow, I climbed up, searching furiously with my optics.

` And sighed, with extreme relief, as they at last rested on the radio.


	4. Chapter 4

Making Contact At Last

"Thank Primus . . ." My hands eagerly reached for the radio, as I climbed into my truck further, getting settled in the front seat behind the steering wheel. I paused for a moment when I realized how strange this seemed- to be placed behind something that had become so familiar from a different view, and now I was seeing it in a whole different light. I puzzled over this for only a second, and instead began to do my best to figure out how to work the radio in front of me.

Before, it had been so simple; nothing more but a single command, nothing more than a simple afterthought, that before had gotten the radio working that served as the host for our com link. I knew it was enhanced to reach much further than any normal CB radio, and that the humans were able to access it as easily as I could. Yet now, I had to actually work it, without a simple thought. At first, I was unsure, my mind refusing to recall how it was done, instead remaining stubbornly clouded as the dull pain in my head rose and persisted. I paused for a moment, closing my optics and holding the spot again, trying to clear my head of any thoughts that dared encourage such ache. When it subsided again I opened my eyes, and recalled how to work it. I grabbed the receiver, and flipped the radio on with a simple gesture of my thumb, hearing the static that immediately caused a wave of static to spill out. I pressed the button on the receiver and spoke into it, making my message as clear as I possibly could.

"This is Optimus Prime. If there is anyone out there that can hear this message, please respond."

I waited, my hand gripping the steering wheel as I steadied myself, my optics watching the radio, as if expecting that I would be able to see the voice as well as I would hear it. My need to hear another Autobot's voice, to know that they were alright, or at least capable of getting into contact with me. My brow furrowed deeper with every minute that passed by, where there was no answer, becoming more and more agitated as the minutes turned into an entire hour. I planned on staying there, for the entirety it would take until someone contacted me back. I knew that wherever I was, I should have been able to reach my Autobots, and I was confused as to why I was not heard. Again, I was so reveled in my thoughts I did not hear Dr. Shawn Callaway's approach until his voice entered the air. "Optimus?" I looked up, out of the truck to find him standing by the open door, looking up at me.

" . . . Yes?"

"I came in to check on you. You've been in here for a while." He looked to the receiver that was still clenched in my hand. "Are . . . you calling someone?"

"Yes. I am trying to get into contact with anyone who can hear me."

"Friends of yours?"

"Family."

"Ahh." He paused for a moment, his eyes tracing over my face, as if he was looking for something. "I know how important this is for you, but you'll need a lot of rest. Come on, switch it off, and come back inside. Stress isn't good."

"I would like to stay in the truck." I insisted, though I faced him now, trying to get my feelings across.

"I can see that, Optimus. But without rest, you're not going to get better."

I looked down now, thinking about what he had just told me. He was a doctor, a medical specialist among humans. And however much I wanted to stay in the truck, to wait for the call, he had to be right. I looked back to the radio, at the finger that was still poised on the on/off switch, and after a moment's more hesitation, I pressed the switch, and turned it off. Then I turned back toward Shawn, and slid out of the truck, using the rail on the side to better allow myself to land on my feet. I closed the door, and began to walk toward the doctor. Yet as I walked, the pain returned, enough so to where I felt my body react. If not for Shawn's hovering, and quick support, I would have fallen. "Careful. Now, see, what'd I tell you?" he said sharply, his tones disappointed. "Are you going to listen to me now?"

"I will do the best I can." I said, as we moved back into the house. Hannah, the girl, looked at us as we walked in, and she smiled, yet I could not find it in myself to smile back. Shawn led me up to the room I had awakened in, and had me remove the shoes, the jacket, and the shirt before having me climb back onto the bed and lay back. "Now, you'll stay in this bed for a few days, and then you can go back to the radio. You've got to give yourself some time to heal. You're not Wolverine, you know."

" . . . Wolverine?" I repeated, confused.

"You know . . . Marvel . . . furry, short dude . . . ?"

I stared at him blankly.

"Um . . . never mind." He said, before stepping backwards and letting me alone.

As he suggested, I remained in the bed for the required two days. He administered me pain medicine, however (though I refrained from telling him) it did not work. Yet over the two days, the pain resided, becoming less and less severe. When the third day passed, and the fourth morning came, Shaw checked over me. His mouth slanted to the side, his brow furrowing, yet with a sigh, he said, "Alright. You can get out of bed now, I guess. Though you're not off the hook yet." he frowned, as I leaned up.

"I must get back to the radio." I said, and I started to get up, yet his hand shot out, stopping me, and his mouth slanted. "You've got to take it easy . . ."

"I've got to get in touch." I insisted, and he sighed, and then slowly released me. "Only because I know how much family means to someone." He said, before he began to walk away. I walked through the house on my own, using memory to find my way back to their garage. This body felt a lot better as I moved, the stretch to the muscles from being in the bed for most of the past few days seeming to become rejuvenated. When I got to the truck, I opened the door again, climbing inside and getting settled before I looked to the radio again. I was worried that I had missed the call that would signify that the other Autobots were out there, and at least alive. Yet, if they had called, the same as I had, then perhaps, they would be waiting. I switched on the radio again and pressed down the button for the receiver, cutting off the static for a moment so I could send out my message.

"This is Optimus Prime. If there is anyone out there that can hear this message, please respond."

I let go of the button, and the static returned, and I began my wait. Static persisted, and after a few minutes, I tried again.

"This is Optimus Prime. If there is anyone that is receiving this message, please respond."

My optics watched again, my audits listened, waiting . . . waiting . . . and again, the static persisted. And, again, I waited, yet this time, I was not going to move, unless I absolutely _had_ to.

"Optimus?"

I looked up, my attention on the radio drawn away by the woman's voice. I looked at Hannah, as she held a tray of circular food, still steaming from being in the oven. "Good morning." I greeted her, trying my best to not show the disappointment that was running through my mind. Yet another day had passed, and there had been no call, no answers to my messages. I was not discouraged, not yet; I would not rest until I was sure that no one would answer.

"Hi. I made you some cookies. I didn't know what you liked, so I kind of baked a little of . . . well . . . _all_ of them."

I looked from her face to the tray, my mouth slanting for a moment, only to be replaced by a small smile. I was hoping that perhaps it would help me get out of this sudden situation quicker. "I do not think I can take yet another meal from you today, Hannah. I have eaten quite enough . . . _food_."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, I wasn't thinking maybe I'd be feeding you a little too much." Her optics were focused on me, her lips parted, that strange flush appearing on her cheeks. I paused, knowing that was one of the signs of embarrassment. "Was what I said upsetting?" I asked. I leaned forward as she spoke, because her voice had become very withdrawn, to the point where my audits could almost not hear.

"N-no, you've just . . . never . . . smiled before." Her eyes began to close, and she leaned forward as well, her lips pursing in the strangest way. "You should smile . . . more often . . ."

Quickly, I grabbed her shoulders and set her backward, making her fumble and almost drop the food she had referred to as cookies. "I _do not_ belong here." I said abruptly, before releasing her. She stared at me for a moment, as I molded my features to one that I used when I was giving one of my strictest orders. After a moment, she nodded once. "Y-yeah . . . o-okay." Hannah said shakily. For a moment, I felt like had perhaps gone too far, and was about to apologize, when behind me I heard a long-awaited noise.

_"_Kirk to Enterprise." _Shhhhh._

I turned, away from the woman as I jumped. I slid back into my truck all the way, into the seat, and shut the door behind me, turning the knob that increased the volume.

"Speak again." I urged, my brow furrowing as time began to pass yet again. And just when I began to think that I had heard nothing at all, it sounded again.

"Kirk to Enterprise."

"Thank Primus," I breathed, as I grabbed the receiver and pressed the button, cutting off the static and speaking into it. "This is Optimus Prime."

"_Sarge_!" _Psshhhhht._ "Boy am I glad I could get ahold of you!" _Psshh_. "Scooby Doo! Where are you?!" Psshh. "Well, you see, I'm not quite myself." _Psst._ "I'M ONLY HUMAN!"

"Bumblebee. I am glad to be ahold of you, as well." I turned on the GPS, my finger tapping on the steering wheel as I waited for it to start up. This was becoming habitual; I had done it multiple times before, while I was waiting for someone to answer my call. At last, the GPS stopped loading, and pinpointed the location as to where I was. San Diego, California, in one of the outward suburbs. I frowned for a moment, wondering how I had gotten there, and I said, "Send me your coordinates, Bumblebee. And I will go to your location."

There was a second before he answered, relaying his coordinates over the radio. I typed them in on the touch-screen pad, watching as it loaded again, but this time it was quicker, and rerouted a location for me. At that time, Shawn exited the house and walked into the garage, to stand by his still-bewildered sister. I opened the door, and leaned out, my optics passing a serious gaze to him. "Am I cleared to leave?" I asked.

"Wait . . . what . . . ? Leave?" he asked, his face contorting with confusion.

"Yes. I must go, if I am cleared."

"Go? Where?"

"I have already told you, once, that I am not alone. It is time for me to find _them_." I said, and he nodded once. "Your family. Alright, you're cleared."

"Thank you for all of the hospitality you have shown me. I can only hope that I can repay you for the kindness you have shown me." I said, before closing the door again and turning to leave, stopping as I realized that there were no keys. I paused, looking at the steering wheel for a moment, my gaze going blank.

"Visor, Optimus. Look in the visor." Shawn called.

I looked up, and pulled down the rectangular visor, watching as a single key dropped down and into my awaiting palm. I looked to Shawn and his sister Hannah and nodded once, and inserted the key into the ignition. Shawn stepped up and knocked on my door, and stood back as I opened it yet again. He outstretched a roll of human currency, his face stern. "Take it. It's two hundred dollars. I've been saving up, knowing you'd leave eventually. Don't spend it all in one place."

"I will not." I promised, before shutting the door once last time, and turning the key, hearing the engine roar to life, loud enough that Shawn and Hannah covered their ears, and I looked into the rearview mirror, and pulled out of their garage, following the GPS's directions as I went, and pulling out of the suburb, leaving them behind, knowing Bumblebee was ahead.

"Stay in contact with me, Bumblebee," I directed, into the receiver as I kept one hand on the wheel, both optics on the road. It seemed I had not lost my skills when it came to driving, and I was relieved. My hand gripped the wheel as I turned, and he answered, at last.

"—glad to know you're there!"

"Yes, I must say I feel the same way. I am in-route."


End file.
